


Of Shower Heads and Autumn

by Aeneid



Category: Gintama
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autumn, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bathing/Washing, Cohabitation, F/M, Japan, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Prompt Fic, Romance, Roommates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:13:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8368441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeneid/pseuds/Aeneid
Summary: Based on the prompt, “I’m your ex, you are a cop, and I just got arrested for being drunk and disorderly”.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Major thanks to DraconianScribe for all the suggestions, the ideas, and for keeping me sane.

Friday nights with a day off the next day were work nights that Okita Sougo looked forward to the most.

As part of the Tokyo Metropolitan Safety Bureau’s Community Police Affairs, he was in-charge of handling peace in the area where his assigned police box was… which, to his amusement, happened to be the ‘notorious’ Kabuki-cho.

While the area was known both as a red-light district and the place where the _yakuza_ frequented in (the majority of them owned the bars and the night clubs in the district), it was a place where a lot of the city’s employees relaxed and unwind after a stressful work week, either drinking to their heart’s content or were in need of some form of ‘stress relief’, particularly the men.

As a policeman, the worst he had to deal with were drunks who either tried to cross a street while the light was red (always a dangerous thing to do), or those who were causing a disturbance both to the establishments and the people around them. He had yet to come across a knife fight that involved the _yakuza_ and a civilian, and frankly, from what most of his colleagues had said, he still had it better in Kabuki-cho than Roppongi. According to Hijikata-san, in Roppongi, one had to deal with the filth, the drunk people, the illegal weapons in the form of knives longer than 6 centimeters, and the aggressive bar employees who would harass passersby to come by their place. On the other hand, Kabuki-cho was simply filled with drunk office workers who would stumble upon the ground they walked on, then blame the ground for supposedly tripping them, as well as the _yakuza_ , who posed no threat unless they were provoked.

This Friday, his shift ended at midnight, and while he was in no hurry to run back to the police box to get dressed (he had half an hour to get to Shinjuku Station before the last train), something in him told him to head to the train station _immediately_ , police uniform and all.

In this instance, he ignored the warning; surely, his gut feeling was just wrong...?

He was in no hurry to go home despite feeling weary. He was confident that would definitely catch the last train back to Fuchu; from where he stood, the police box was less than a minute away, a crosswalk away, to be more specific. It always took him less than five minutes to get dressed, and another five to get to his train line. Other than that, no one would tell him to stay behind and do overtime, as the police box in his area was well-staffed, even at this time.

Despite trying to reassure himself that he had to drop by the police box anyway to inform his superior that he was heading home, the uneasiness did not settle down, and this puzzled him greatly.

Did something happen while he was gone?

Also immediately, he got his answer.

“Get yer hands off me! Das no’ ‘ow ya treat a lady!”

As he got to the street corner a step away from where the police box was, he heard a rather loud and obviously drunken voice echoing behind the sliding doors.

Unconsciously, Sougo found himself shaking his head, as if to clear his thoughts.

He was hallucinating, he was sure of it. After all, he had been patrolling nonstop since five in the evening.

That was probably why his gut feeling had been telling him to go home immediately.

_‘Five minutes, no more, no less.’_ He would head straight to the locker room, get dressed, and then bid Kondo-san good night.

Placing his fingers on the groove of the door, he slid the door to his right, and immediately stopped in his tracks.

_No… fucking way._

He didn’t realize he said it out loud until his superior, Kondo Isao, had turned to look at him, who was still standing by the doorway, shell-shocked at what he was witnessing.

“Oh, Sougo! Welcome back!” the older man grinned at him for a split second before focusing his attention again on the person before him. “Heading home soon? Don’t let me stop you; just need to settle something.”

Was it his imagination, or did _that person_ tense up upon hearing his name?

It had been some three odd years or so ever since _that incident_ happened, yet he found himself wincing inwardly as an onslaught of memories made its way to his mind.

Memories that involved the person whom Kondo-san was arguing with.

Sakata Kagura.

His… _ex-girlfriend_.

This was so awkward.

Who would’ve thought their paths with cross once more? He had sworn to himself never to get involved with _her_ , and yet, here she was in the very place where he worked. Even from this distance, he could smell the alcohol that permeated around her, while her hair, which used to be shoulder length, was now waist-length and smelled like cigarette smoke. Not surprisingly, her hair was a mess, as it was sticking all over the place. Despite the cool autumn weather, she opted to wear a brown skirt, with a matching top and a blazer. The beige scarf that was wrapped around her neck had untied itself and was hanging off her shoulder. Not surprising, the make-up on her face was smudged, and, to his private amuse, she looked like a raccoon.

“… wasn’ causin’ no pro’blem!” he was too busy studying her that he had been unable to catch what she had said the first time around. “Ya can’t keep me hir!”

Kondo-san give an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, miss, but you’ve, uh, caused a bit of a problem earlier. You’ve… well, hit five people during your drunken frenzy, and I had no choice but to bring you here—”

“I told ya, they mugged me! I was fightin’ back, ya know?!” she screamed back, visibly upset. “Look, they took mah keys to the apartment! It’s not in mah bag, and I need it!”

She was drunk alright.

So drunk, her country accent was slipping its way through her lips.

Not that Okita found any fault in it; it was only some four years ago when she moved to Tokyo, which was why it still took time for her to get used to speaking in the standard Japanese language. Back when he first met her, her accent was so strong that he would sometimes have a hard time understanding what she said.

Add to that, some words that she used in her local dialect meant an entirely different thing in the Tokyo dialect.

An amusing case of lost in translation, Sougo had to admit.

“Still, you shouldn’t have shoved people to the ground—”

“I told ya they were thieves! They took mah wallet and keys to the apartment!” while it was frowned upon to scream at the police, the sandy-haired young man was relieved to see that Kondo-san maintained a poker-faced expression instead of threatening to arrest her for being disrespectful.

She was drunk, after all, and wasn’t herself.

“They were tryin’ ta take ‘dvantage of me and get mah money!” she stomped her foot in anger, making him wince from the rather sharp sound that came from the heel of her boots. “They can have mah money, but mah keys…!”

At this, she burst into tears.

Kondo-san flashed him a look of horror, as if to say, “Help me out here!”

It didn’t help that the sides of the man’s face was sweating, and while he wanted to laugh at his superior’s misery of having to deal with a crying woman, he couldn’t. Kondo-san was asking for help, and while he wanted to help out…

Okita knew he shouldn’t get himself involved with _her_ again, but leaving without even bothering to offer and help… well, that was something he wanted to avoid, especially since he was still considered the new guy on the job. Not only that, but his future depended on Kondo-san’s recommendation, and he couldn’t afford to screw it all up just because he couldn’t act professional in front of his ex.

The consequences of further interacting with her had been embedded in his mind ever since he had been warned to stay away from her, but he shoved the thought away for the meantime.

To hell with Sakata Gintoki and his threats; his career was highly dependent on being a professional, and it wasn’t as if the guy would know if he had any interactions with his daughter unless one of them opens their mouth.

If someone did tattle, it sure as hell wouldn’t be him.

He looked at his watch, cursing when he saw that it had already been twenty minutes past the hour of twelve; at this rate, he wouldn’t be able to catch the last train home.

Okita Sougo sighed quietly to himself; there was no turning back, and it was now or never.

Out loud, he turned to Kondo-san and said, “Give me five minutes, Kondo-san. I just need to get dressed.”

 

* * *

This was all a dream… or maybe even a nightmare.

Either way, she was dreading the outcome of this… _scenario_.

It wasn’t everyday one’s ex, whom she parted ways with in the worst possible way, would offer to take her in for the night, as her earlier predicament had robbed her of both her wallet and her keys. While the older policeman at the station had vowed to take action and find her items, she was now inside a taxi with Okita Sougo, and well on their way to his apartment at Fuchu.

Vaguely, she wondered if anything inside his apartment had changed, or if someone else had taken her old room when she vacated it years ago… only to feel bile on her mouth.

She was definitely drunk… and it was definitely not because of the possibility that some woman had taken over her room and was living together with her ex.

Kagura was thankful that neither of them had attempted any form of conversation, as the situation itself was awkward enough. His eyes were closed, and she figured that the exhaustion of patrolling around Shinjuku and Kabuki-cho had exhausted him.

At least, that was what she wanted to think; there was also the possibility of him pretending to sleep just so there would be no opportunity for them to talk, and that hurt her more than she would like to admit. While their parting had been unconventional, she had no hand in it.

Rather, it had been her good-for-nothing father who had settled it for her. It was only last year when her Uncle Zura admitted that he felt guilty for simply watched her father beat Okita to a pulp, all the while she was out shopping in Shibuya with her college friend, Soyo. At that time, when she got home, she found her father and her other uncles waiting for her in the apartment she shared with Okita, only to be told that they had managed to find a nice place for her near a major train line, which would meant an easier commute to school.

Before she could even protest, Papa had informed her that he already signed a lease, even volunteered as her guarantor, and that she must move in immediately.

At that time as well, she tried to call Okita and inform him about the sudden change of plans in their living arrangements, only for her calls and mails to go unanswered.

Uncle Zura had told her the reason why Okita had been avoiding her calls at that time: Sakata Gintoki had told Okita that if he tried to contact her, he would get more than just a beating, which he had taken to heart.

Right after the winter holidays just this January, she had told her father that she was never going to speak to him anymore unless he made things right. At first, the older man was puzzled by her behavior, until it dawned upon him that she knew the truth, and had been begging to talk to her, to no avail. It had been ten months already since her ultimatum, and Papa had done _nothing_ , which annoyed her to no end.

For all her father’s tough demeanor, the man couldn’t bring himself to apologize.

“We’re here.” Announced the driver of the taxi they were in, stopping right in front of the familiar apartment building that she had lived in for two years of her university life.

At this, Okita opened his eyes, fished out his wallet from his back pocket, and handed over a ten-thousand yen bill to the driver. In return, he got some loose change, which he shoved inside his wallet, and got out of the taxi as soon as the door opened. She followed suit, got out of the same door, stepping back a little as to let the door close automatically, and watched it drive off. When she noticed that her host for the evening was already making his way up the stairs to his room, she followed suit, but not before removing her boots and walking on her stockinged feet. It was already half past one in the morning, and she sure was hell her footwear was going to make a lot of noise.

Reaching the third floor, she found herself walking down the familiar corridor leading to their—to his apartment room, and upon reaching the doorway, he held the door for her, gesturing for her to get in. She thank him wordlessly by bowing her head in return and set her boots down by the entrance. Taking a step up on the elevated floor, she made her way to the kitchen area and stopped by the sliding door leading to his room.

Or rather, his part of the room. Her old room was further beyond, which had a balcony view of the city.

Again, she wondered if there was anyone else living with him right now; based on what she saw from the entryway, there was no pair of extra slippers for a second person, as the only pair there belonged to Okita. The cabinet that contained his footwear was closed, and it would be rude of her to open and take a peek just to confirm her suspicions.

Not to mention, creepy.

“You can sleep on the bed.”

It was the first thing he said directly to her, and it just had to be about the sleeping arrangements. She felt disappointed that he did not even bother asking her about what happened earlier; then again, for him, this was probably all business, and her presence here was not a social visit.

“Where _you_ sleepin’?” she found herself asking, cringing at the fact that her country bumpkin accent was still there, as she still slurred on her words.

“I can just borrow an extra _futon_.” he told her.

_So there_ was _someone living with him._

Kagura ignored the anger and hurt from inside her. “ ’kay. Goo’ ni—”

“Not so fast.” Before she could open the sliding door, he marched over to where she was and placed a hand over the groove of the door, preventing her from opening it.

“Wha?” she was puzzled as to why he was stopping her.

“You’ll be sleeping in my bed and smelling like that. I’ve had the sheets washed recently.” Absent-mindedly, she sniffed her hair and cringed, noting that it smelled heavily of cigarette smoke.

Damn, how much did she drink anyway? And how long was she in the bar?

More importantly, why was he getting in the way of her bed time over something so petty? He could just wash the sheets again, no big deal.

“An’?” she snapped, angry that he was delaying her from sleeping on a proper bed.

Then again, she should’ve anticipated him prolonging this whole thing; he was skilled at delaying in many ways and—

She hastily shoved the train of thought aside, horrified that her thoughts were heading towards a direction that made her very uncomfortable, making her shift from one leg to the other. While she was feeling better, she was still drunk to the point that any sudden movements made her dizzy.

“Take a bath.”

It took her several seconds to process what he just said.

“Hah…?!” did he actually suggest her to take a bath while she was drunk and would probably hit her head on the floor if she slipped and fell?

… Though she was actually more concerned at the thought of her slipping, falling, crying out loud, and him walking in to try and help her, only to find her in an awkward position, and flashing her… _parts_ at him.

For the second time that evening, she shoved the dirty thought aside and focused on the situation she was currently in.

“Did you want me to repeat that for you?” he asked haughtily.

“Can’t even fuckin’ stand up.” She spat out. “Wat ya gonna do ‘bout dat?!”

“Obviously, I’ll be the one to bathe you.” He informed her. “Just sit on the stool, close your eyes, and I’ll go out of my way to make sure you smell decent before you even lay down on my bed.”

Anger coursed through her body, and before she could even stop herself from doing something stupid, she found her hands on the buttons of her blazer and discarded it right then and there. Immediately after, she pulled her top over her head and tossed it down the floor.

“… We’ve talked about this before, haven’t we? I am _not_ gonna pick it up for you. If you wanna start stripping, do it in the bathroom and throw your clothes down the washing machine.” If she had her way, she would’ve hit him immediately for his arrogance, but as someone who had been temporarily locked out of her apartment and was stranded because she had no money for her cab fare and the train lines shut down for the night, she had no choice but to obey.

… Except he was underestimating her, and she would _not_ allow herself to be pushed around.

Unhooking her bra while she maintained eye contact with him was easy enough, though it had taken some time for her to unhook her skirt and let it fall down the floor. As for her stockings, she had taken it off along with her underwear by pulling it down and leaving it on the floor. Ignoring his demands to place it in the washing machine, she headed for the bathroom, careful not to lose her footing due to her light-headedness. As soon as she found the familiar plastic stool that she previous used while she was living with him, she grabbed it, sat down, and waited for him to start his ridiculous idea of _bathing her_.

While she didn’t relish the thought of him drenching her with cold water in some sadistic attempt to get even, her thoughts drifted immediately to the idea of her being bathed and cleaned by him using a part of his anatomy that always made her scream for more. At this, she pressed the sides of her forehead in an attempt to extinguish the thought of him going down on her, between her legs.

“Where’re ya? Thought ya gonna shower me—”

“Calm down, will you?” he said as he entered the shower area. “You’re so impatient.”

She shouldn’t have looked up.

She really shouldn’t have.

Her mouth and throat were dry thanks to the autumn air, but now, she felt like she needed to down at least a liter of water.

Damn that man for being way too handsome for his own good.

Ever since she had moved in, she had already acknowledged the fact that Okita Sougo was the type of guy who was too handsome for his own good, and the type wherein you would need to arm yourself with a bat in case some of his admirers would go too far and try to maul him. Years back when she was a student of Tokyo University of Foreign Studies, a lot of the students on campus were half in love with him, despite him being a student at the National Police Academy, which was just adjacent her own university. She, on the other hand, had been denial of her own attraction to him for a good three months before she had drunkenly confessed her feelings for him on his birthday that year.

It had been impossible not to fall for him; he was simply too perfect in her eyes despite the sadistic streak he had that rivaled her own, as well as the fact that there had been times where she had accidentally peeked at him both in the bathroom and while he was dressing up, and her mind had conjured the most erotic scenario possible that involved the two of them.

It didn’t surprise her when they started sleeping with one another a month after she had confessed, and by then, he, too, had told her that he felt the same way.

Too bad, just when things were looking up for them, Papa had ruined it all in the guise of ‘looking out for her’.

“… Ya were takin’ too long.” She muttered, averting her eyes on the tiles. While he was not naked (he wore snug-looking boxers that showed every curve and bulge), his body was a distraction to her eyes, and was making her feel rather warm despite the cold weather. “ ‘bviously  needed to check if ya were still alive.”

She waited for his response, but instead got blasted with water over her head instead.

Cold water, that is.

Immediately, she shivered from the sudden spray and yelled, “Da fuck, man! Ya tryin’ ta kill me?!”

He cursed under his breath. “Shit, sorry. Forgot to turn on the water heater.” He made his way out of the bathing area to switch on the heater and was back straightaway. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Da fuck ya didn’!” she screamed, hitting him on his thigh and sneezing at the same time. “Ya were trying to teach me a less’n—”

Kagura had been unable to continue on with her cursing when he had actually dropped down to his knees and enveloped her into a hug.

“I already said I’m sorry. What more do you want?” he whispered into her ear.

_Stop it._

If he was trying to seduce her, he was doing it right; skin to skin contact that felt so familiar was enough to make her rest her head against his chest and bury her face on the crook of his neck, cigarette-scented hair and all. As much as she wanted to pull away, she couldn’t. The water was freezing, and she needed all the warmth she could get.

And so, she let him hold her until he was ready to let go once more.

Just this once, she would give way to what her body and emotions have been longing for for years.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> It’s been a while since my last fic. For that, my apologies. Hopefully, the first part of the fic was worth the wait.
> 
> Here’s also to hoping that I can finish this series before Kagura’s birthday this year.
> 
> A bit of trivia about stuff what I’ve written:
> 
> -Despite what was written in the earlier part, Kabuki-cho is safer than Roppongi. [I actually don’t like Roppongi because it’s filthy.]  
> -A lot of yakuza do hang out at Kabuki-cho, but as long as you don’t cause trouble, they’ll leave you alone.  
> -Depending on the train line back to your place, trains do stop before or after midnight. Same goes with buses. If you do miss the last train, taxis are your best friend, but they cost a lot.  
> -Even if you’re above 20 (age of majority), you need a guarantor most of the time when you rent a place. Most Japanese have their parents as their guarantor, while foreigners have their companies act as their guarantor.  
> -Water heaters here are not automatic for most homes; you have to switch it on and off for it to work.  
> -The Japanese bathe at night; it’s actually one of the few time they get to relax.
> 
> If there were some things that needs some clarification, especially the cultural aspect part, feel free to message me and I’ll try to answer right away.
> 
> Thank you for reading all the way until the end. Till next time!


End file.
